Johnlock- the calm before a storm
by Dementedtimecreature
Summary: The first chapter of my first fic, guys! (so please don't be too harsh, but feel free to leave advice, ect) set three years after Sherlock's death, John and his son, Sherlock jr. feature, and explore John's feelings from Sherlock's death. i'll post the second chapter soon if you want. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

John chases after a young boy, maybe two or three years old. Although the years have been kind to John in looks, with only a few extra, and according to his son, barely noticeable lines around his eyes, inside, he is still an emotional wreck, haunted by the day his partner, his friend- his lover, took his life.

"Sherlock, stop trying to kill the seagulls!" He hears a familiar voice call a beloved name and looks round, hardly daring to believe his ears. But no. just Mrs Hudson calling the name of the second most precious person in his life; his son.

John finds it hard to remember why he decided to call his son after the most precocious, brilliant man in his living memory. Although it suited his tiny baby's dark curls and alert eyes, it still poisons him to call the name without _his _Sherlock coming running, or not, knowing his unpredictability, purple scarf over one shoulder and world weary violin in the crook of his elbow, so God knows how hard it would have been so close to the accident. Well, a year, but for John, a millennium away from that fateful day would still be too soon. Too soon to lose his precious sociopath.

His son, though, was certainly not completely wrongly named. Sherlock jr. still had messy dark curls and a constantly sceptical look on his face. Just like Sherlock, he noticed everything. For John, it gave him a punishing dose of the man he yearned for so deeply, so wildly. But he loved his son with the same passionate patience he had, still did love Sherlock Holmes with.

Walking back with his son in hand, fascinated with a small brown box they had bought the previous night at a small antique shop near Baker street, John reflects on his existence since he had been left. As if finding out that Molly was pregnant with his child after a passionate fling cause by and rooted in grief for their friend, he had also been offered a job as a journalist after an independent magazine had read his blog. For a few weeks, he had been almost as happy as when Sherlock was still around to tease him, lecture him, love him. But then one, tragic thing had occurred. Weeks after his young son was born, he been diagnosed with meningitis. It had been close for a few weeks, but baby Sherlock had fought, tooth and nail and was one of the lucky ones. But Molly had cracked under pressure, leaving John for... Anderson. That had been when John started slipping. He'd leave Sherlock in the arms of the less than willing Mycroft (not Mrs Hudson, she was already giving him an even more extreme discount on the rent- he didn't want to be a nuisance) and would go out drinking on his own, for days at a time, punishing himself for the events that had changed his life so dramatically, but he couldn't alter. It was only after overdosing on his prescribed painkillers and waking up in a cold, sterile hospital room he began to realise that whatever he did, nothing would bring Sherlock back.

Laughing slowly, John brings himself out of the trance he had entered, and pushes his key into the lock of 221b Baker street's blue front door. He still feels the hole in his chest that Sherlock left, but has learnt to put a brave face on. Every night, he reminds himself that Sherlock isn't going to suddenly reappear and kiss him on the forehead, promising never to leave him again.

he wasn't completely right, however...


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

From the moment John first walked into his lab, Sherlock had felt something... different around him. When he looked up into that tanned, troubled face, he felt a strange hotness curling around his abdomen, something he had never experienced before. As he grew to know John more closely, he found him more and more fascinating, and the feeling grew. One cold winter day, Sherlock did the unexplainable. He consulted Mycroft for help.

**Meet me at the flat at 12 noon- SH**

**You know, Sherlock, you could have just called- MH**

**I prefer to text. I need help. Please come. SH**

Mycroft was astonished, but hailed his chauffeur and drove across London at top speed. As they came to Baker street, two gunshots rattled the windows, but he didn't flinch. he was used to his little brother's temper. But he was worried by Sherlock's plead for help.

Sherlock jumped when he heard the rap on the door. John had just gone out, and despite his attempts to console Sherlock's apparent misery, he had left frustrated and upset at not being able to help the man who he had been so patient with. Sherlock ran to the door, flinging it open before Mrs. Hudson could see who it was.

" I believe this is about Dr. Watson?"

"How?..."

"You're not the only one with the power of deduction at your side, remember, so tell me, what's happened?"

"I'm in love with him, Mycroft. and I have no idea what to do."

"just tell him"

What followed was probably the closest moment the two brothers had shared, and it still ended with shouting. that was just the way with two such similar people, John reckoned when he saw Mycroft storming out from around the corner. but he could never had anticipated what happened next.

Sherlock insisted that John sat down, and even made him a cup of, admittedly foul tasting, tea.

"John, we need to talk" John froze. He hoped that Sherlock hadn't found out about the way he felt for him, but he also wanted Sherlock to admit to loving him back. to hold him in his arms and feel his soft breath against his cheek. yeah. as if.

"look, Sher..."

"No, John, it's my turn to talk. please don't interrupt... Look, John, I know I've said before that I'm married to my work, even believed that I'm asexual because, well, nobody has ever interested me before. But then I met you. Look, John, I know that you're completely straight bu.."

John cut him off with a passionate kiss, gently intertwining his fingers with Sherlock's long, pale digits. Sherlock pulled him closer, one hand in the small of his back and the other around the back of his neck. John pulled away, laughing at the surprise on Sherlock's face. For once he was completely silent.


End file.
